


Paperweight

by RemainNameless



Series: Airplanes!verse [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: IDGAF, M/M, Porn, This is like ninety percent porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:18:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemainNameless/pseuds/RemainNameless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porntastic partial epilogue for "Paper Airplanes".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paperweight

**Author's Note:**

> For Silvia<3  
> supes late for your bday, love! I am running into the woods to cry my apologies only there are no woods and i am still sorry
> 
> Takes place minutes after "Paper Airplanes".

There’s this weird moment where they both look at Derek’s bed and just sort of stand there.

His bed isn’t made and his clothes from the day are on the floor nearby. There’s a book and a box of Kleenex on the bedside table, the drawer of which isn’t quite closed. 

“You are _such_ a single guy,” Stiles says with a low whistle. 

“Oh, shut up,” Derek says, butting him with his shoulder, ears red. “I bet your room is completely _teenage boy_.” He grimaces after he says it, and Stiles almost feels bad. But hey, he can’t help how old he is. 

“Honestly, the only difference is that you probably have better lube,” Stiles says. 

Derek shrugs and they just _stand_ there. Not looking at each other. And the thing is, they were kissing a second ago and it was _great_ , so this doesn’t make sense.

“Okay, I’m just going to be the one to say it,” Stiles says, “I want to have sex with you, and I’m pretty sure you want to have sex with me. And it’s weird, okay, because this is basically the opposite of everything we’ve ever done _ever_ , but I think it could be pretty good. It’s going to be a little awkward, but good. So I think we should make out a little. I like kissing. I like kissing _you_.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Derek smile a little, and Stiles hooks a finger into his waistband, pulls him in. Derek rolls his eyes a little, but when Stiles kisses the corner of his mouth, he turns into it.

He lets Stiles undress him. Meets his mouth in soft, insistent presses, pulls away so Stiles can pull his shirt over his head, and he doesn’t flinch when Stiles unties his drawstring and pushes his pants down. 

Stiles is afraid to look at him. A little. A lot. Because that’ll make this real. It’ll mean that they somehow went from hanging out in his classroom to being naked in front of each other, and that’s _terrifying_. It’s real, that’s the thing. Stiles hasn’t dated anyone, but he knows that if they do this, he’ll want to. Every reason he ever had for not having a relationship is standing in front of him, and it’s not just _Derek_. It’s that Stiles can’t grasp the concept of temporary. Maybe _because_ he hasn’t dated anyone. But Derek’s mouth tastes like coffee and forever, and his body feels real, and maybe this is too much. 

“I should tell you something,” Stiles says, drawing back. “I’ve never done anything with anyone sober.” And that’s when he realizes that Derek _isn’t_ , not the way he is, and maybe this is a bad idea. 

“You’re having second thoughts.”

Stiles shakes his head, wraps a hand around the back of Derek’s neck. “No. It’s not that. It’s…It’s late. Why don’t we just go to sleep?” 

“Here?” Derek asks, looking at the bed. _You’ll stay_? Is what he’s asking. 

“Yeah,” Stiles tells him. “Let’s just sleep.” 

“Should I…?” Derek looks down and yeah, he’s naked. Okay. That’s a thing. It’s a nice thing. And Stiles still feels weird about looking. So he’s not. At least not at this moment. 

“No, it’s fine. Do you mind if I get undressed?” 

Derek snorts at that and flops onto the bed. “Yeah. I really _mind_. That’s why I asked. Because I have a serious issue with you not wearing clothes.” He shakes his head, gives Stiles a look. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Stiles. That’s all.”

Stiles pulls his shirt out of his pants, undoes buttons quickly as he toes of his shoes. “Trust me, you’re not. I just want you to think this is a good idea. I don’t want you to write it off in the morning as too much to drink. I want you to make the decision, no excuses.”

“Are you so sure that I’ll make excuses?” Derek asks. Stiles isn’t sure what’s in his tone, if he’s hurt or just curious or what, so he tries not to worry about it and shucks off his pants. 

“I think it’s possible that if we have sex right now, you’ll freak out in the morning. And you might think this is a mistake, a bad one, and you’ll try to justify it. I don’t want that. I don’t want you to say that you wouldn’t’ve done it if you hadn’t been drinking. It would be an easy thing to say, and, really, I don’t know if it wouldn’t be true. So for me, I guess. I don’t want to feel like the only reason you’d sleep with me is because you’re drunk.”

“I’m not _drunk_ ,” Derek argues.

“ _No_ , and I can see that, but legally, I bet you wouldn’t be able to drive. I would put money on it.” He feels only a tiny bit weird about getting naked, but he’s not going to _act_ weird about it, so he shoves his briefs down, steps out of them, and pulls back Derek’s covers. 

They slide in together easily enough, and it’s not like the bed is too _small_. It’s weird at first, though. Figuring out how their limbs fit together, trying not to get weird about the fact that their _dicks_ are right there, finding a comfortable position. Maybe it’s weirder because they haven’t had sex. Like there are boundaries there that shouldn’t be. But they figure it out after a few minutes of shifting around. 

And then they lie there, eyes open.

“Something tells me we should’ve turned off the light first,” Stiles says with a sigh. Derek tweaks his nose. 

“Smart ass,” he says as he slips away. Stiles does _not_ look at his ass. And then the lights are off, so it’s okay because he can’t see anything anyway. Derek scootches back in and they resettle in the dark.

“You’re cuddly,” Stiles tells him. 

Derek’s fingers trace across his arm. “I like being close to people. If I like them.”

“I know. I always knew you had a gooey caramel center. I just didn’t think you’d _prove_ it. Not yet, at least.”

“Shut up.” 

Stiles smiles against Derek’s collarbone. 

It’s not _that_ weird. The first time they sleep together can be _literal_. That’s fine. And it _is_. It’s comfortable. It’s possible he’s more comfortable than he’s ever been, even though he has to shift his leg a little so it doesn’t go numb in the night. 

“You’re a good thing,” Stiles mumbles, and he is.

 

* * *

 

When Stiles wakes up, it’s…well, it’s awkward. 

So he’s gotten past the point of wet dreams, but it’s not _weird_ to wake up hard. Especially not at his age. Not at, like, _anyone’s_ age. So he’s not going to feel weird about it. It doesn’t _have_ to be awkward.

But it is. Because it’s the first time he’s ever woken up hard next to a potential sexual partner. Which sounds like something it isn’t, but the fact of the matter is that he’s got a pesky boner and his face is pressed against one of Derek’s glorious pecs and that’s not helping the situation. At all. 

Derek shifts, an arm wrapping around Stiles’ shoulders.

Is he _awake_?

Hard to tell. His breathing is slowish, but he might just be relaxed. There’s no real way to tell without moving—

“I’m awake,” Derek says, and Stiles doesn’t _jump_. Because he’s laying down. But he maybe _jerks_ a little. That’s not a good thought though because _jerking_. Yeah. 

“Good to know.”

“It’s early.” Stiles frowns, twists a little to see if he can read Derek’s clock. “Not even seven yet.” 

Stiles settles back down, satisfied. “You gonna throw me out of bed? Tell me this is a bad idea? Because that could probably wait until _eight_ , at least.”

“It _is_ a bad idea, but I think I’ve come to terms with it. You?”

“I tend to _like_ bad ideas,” Stiles says. He walks his fingers up Derek’s sternum. “I think we should have wake-up sex. If you’re at all inclined. If not, just ignore my awkward walk to the bathroom.” 

Derek pulls away a little, and when Stiles looks up at him, their eyes meet. “Go brush your teeth,” Derek says. “Then we’ll talk. Or not.”

Stiles grins, then frowns. “Hey, I bet _you_ have morning breath, too. Not fair.” Derek blows in his face. _Minty fresh_. “How the _hell_ do you have good breath?”

“I woke you up getting back into bed,” he says, shifting a little to sink back into the bed. “Now _go_.”

Stiles uses Derek’s toothbrush without shame or remorse. 

Because it’s the only toothbrush there and Derek would’ve told him to use a spare if there was one. 

He’s not _nervous_ , but he’s a little nervous. It’s not like he hasn’t _done_ this before. And of the _this_. But not with Derek. Derek’s the only person it would be _serious_ with, and maybe that’s not sure healthy, but whatever. It’s fine. 

“It’s _fine_ ,” Derek says when he comes back into the room, “if you don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to _pressure_ you.”

“I do. I’m serious. But it’s weird to think about.” Derek’s eyebrows rise. “No, I mean…It’s not like I’ve _thought_ about it a lot, because I’ve very pointedly _not_ thought about it, but I want this. A lot. Maybe too much. And the idea of _actually_ being with you? It’s weird. Not bad-weird. Just weird.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, rubbing his face. “I know the feeling.” 

His hair is messy, and that’s what gets Stiles. That it’s sticking up in a hundred directions, and Stiles has _never_ gotten to see it like this. Right here, right now, this is something new and private and just _them_. There’s no one else watching or judging or _here_. It’s just them.

Derek makes a little _oomph!_ noise when Stiles pounces on him, but it turns into a sigh in Stiles’ mouth. It’s minty and warm and it shouldn’t be good because it’s _seven in the freaking morning_ , but it’s _good_. Derek’s tongue is quick and sure. The way it twists makes something curl and purr in the base of Stiles’ stomach. 

When Derek draws away, he traces a path across Stiles’ face. Probably connect-the-dots. 

“Can I blow you?” Derek asks, and it takes a long time for Stiles to process that. 

“I… _me?_ Are you— I mean, _yes_ , if that’s a thing you want to do. If I’m _hallucinating_ , then please let me know because that can be a sign of serious illness. I watch a lot of House, you know.”

Derek’s _grinning_ , and it hurts a little, in his chest. “I’m serious. I want to.”

“Okay. Cool. It’s just, no one’s ever…” Stiles can feel his face heating up and _that_ ’s embarrassing. 

“What _have_ you done?” Derek asks as he flips Stiles over onto his back. “I mean, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, I just don’t want to assume anything.”

Well, _that_ ’s awkward alright. 

“You know… _stuff_.” One of Derek’s eyebrows pops up as he lowers himself to kiss Stiles’ stomach, right below his ribs. “Okay, half a blow job, maybe a third of a hand job, and most of the butt stuff.” Stiles’ legs fall open because that’s Derek’s stupid _face_ and it’s _right_ near his _dick_ and there are some repressed dreams that are flashing back to him right now. “I mean, most of the _basic_ butt stuff. Beginner-level butt stuff. On one occasion.” 

“Good to know. About the _butt stuff_.” He smirks because he’s Derek and he’s a nice guy but he’s also kind of an asshole. Also, his mouth is _right there_. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never watched Community. Anyway, I was thinking— _Oh my God_ ,” Stiles gets out. 

His hands scrabble at the sheets because, yeah, Derek’s mouth is on him. _Holy shit_. And his _tongue_. He’s _licking_ , and that always looks kind of weird in porn but the way _he_ ’s doing it feels like _heaven_. 

When he wraps his hand around the base of Stiles’ dick and holds it up so he can sink his mouth down on it, Stiles is pretty sure he sees God. Or something. Something _glowing._ Maybe those are just the white spots in Stiles’ vision because all he feels is some sort of _miracle_. And when he can see and he looks down, Derek’s mouth is all the way down to his pubes, _Jesus fucking Christ_.

“Where the _fuck_ did you learn how to do that?” Stiles asks, and he likes to think he sounds manly. (He doesn’t.) 

Derek lifts off him, dick popping from his mouth with an obscene noise. “My ex. She liked to watch me blow guys.”

Well. 

That’s…

 _Something_.

“I have no idea what to say to that,” Stiles says honestly. 

“Me neither,” Derek says with a little shrug. “But you asked.” 

Stiles wants to say _something_ , but Derek licks across the head of his cock and takes him in again, and he’s not thinking beyond religious revelations at that point. Religious revelations and Derek’s eyes, looking up at him like he’s some sort of holy relic. 

Stiles’ morning jerk is usually a short one, so it’s no surprise to _him_ when he grabs at Derek’s hair to pull him off.

Derek looks mildly annoyed, actually.

“Sorry, I was about to come. Is hair-pulling a no-no?”

“No, it’s _fine_ , but that was kind of the _point_.” Derek’s hair is standing up from his head like ears, and Stiles grabs them with a little smile.

“Okee-dokee, then, by all means, _carry on_ ,” he tells Derek. It’s maybe unnecessary because Derek’s on him before he’s done talking and he’s _sucking_ , and yeah.

To say it doesn’t last long is maybe an understatement. 

To say Stiles comes so hard he maybe sees stars is probably also an understatement. 

To say that Stiles is not into Derek licking come from the corner of his mouth is just _wrong_.

“So, uh, thanks for that conversion experience,” Stiles says, grinning lazily. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re my new religion.” 

Derek smirks and crawls up him, pecks him on the mouth. “You talk too much.” 

“Nah, just the right amount. It’s just that half the things I say drive you crazy.”

“ _Most_ of the things you say drive me crazy,” Derek tells him. “And not always the same way.”

“ _Good_.” 

He pulls Derek in by the ears, kisses his open mouth with a bit of a smile. The taste of his come is half gone, but he can tell it was there. It’s bitter and it doesn’t taste _good_ , but he could kiss Derek forever. 

Stiles breaks the kiss, twists to look at the clock. “Okay, so I have about an hour and a half before I need to be un-sexed-looking at breakfast with my dad. I _might_ be able to push it to two hours if you’re in the mood for a round two-point-five. My _point_ is that we should get down to business. To defeat my buns.”

Derek looks blankly at him for a second, then starts pushing him off the bed. “ _Nope_. That was _so_ bad _._ That was actually _horrible_. I’m giving you a permanent F in talking dirty.” Grinning, Stiles grabs him around the waist, pulls him in closer even though Derek’s still pretending he’s done. “I’m serious, you know. That was _awful_.”

“I _know_ that. But I couldn’t resist. Here, tell me if this is better,” he says, then moves in to Derek’s ear. “ _I want you to fuck me, Derek._ Like you never let yourself want. I want you to have me like I used to pretend I didn’t dream about.” Derek turns and takes his mouth, kisses him slow and deep, the kind of kiss that goes all the way to his toes. It’s distracting enough that he doesn’t realize that Derek’s reaching across the bed until he drops lube and a condom down next to them.

When Derek flips them over, he kisses Stiles’ nose. “I’m stupid for you, you know that? And I’m not talking about sex. I’m not saying it because you’re naked and beautiful, you get that, right?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, reaching up to comb through his hair. “I get it. Me too. It’s kind of embarrassing how much I…you know. I don’t want to say it. But…yeah.”

“Eloquent, as always,” Derek teases. Stiles sticks his tongue out and pushes Derek’s face away.

“ _Jerk_.” 

But he grabs the condom, tears it open, tosses the wrapper over the side of the bed. Derek draws back to his knees. His cock hangs heavily between his thighs, and Stiles pretends his mouth doesn’t water just a little bit. Jesus, it’s not even _fair_ how attractive Stiles finds him. With a little smirk, Stiles pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it down Derek’s length. It’s pre-lubed and his hands are a little greasy when Stiles pulls away, but he presses the lube into Derek’s hands.

“You do the honors?”

Derek nods, leans him back down and lifts his legs. “Has it been a while since last time?”

“Few weeks,” Stiles tells him, shrugging with a little too much effort. 

“It’s _fine_ ,” Derek says. “I was just wondering.” He squirts some lube into his hand, warms it up in his fingers while Stiles strokes his thigh for comfort. Having him near is _nice_. It’s comforting. 

Derek leans down and kisses him before touching his hole. And then he just sort of _rubs_ , firm but gentle, until Stiles forces his body to relax enough to let him in. The tip of his finger twists and crooks, massaging his hole from the inside. It’s so _not_ how Stiles has ever tentatively done this himself, from how Danny did it, even, that he can’t even close his mouth. 

“I can take another,” Stiles says before he thinks it. But it’s true. He’s almost totally hard again and he wants as much of Derek in him as he can get. 

Derek crooks an eyebrow at him, but nudges a second finger lightly against his entrance. Strokes at his rim a little before pressing in. Slowly, he pushes in deep, and it feels like a _lot_. He doesn’t move, though, lets Stiles adjust, waits until he relaxes before spreading and tucking into him so far Stiles can feel the back of his hand against his ass. 

The feeling of having something in him isn’t one he’s used to yet. It’s the nice sort of weird, but still. 

Derek kisses his chest, but it’s not nearly enough sensation to draw Stiles’ attention from the fingers in his ass. 

“Did you ever have any of those classic fantasies?” Stiles asks, voice surprisingly even. 

“What do you mean?”

A curl of his fingers makes Stiles gasp, but he says, “You know. Like fucking across your desk. Or against your whiteboard. Or like me blowing you under your desk, trying to be quiet because someone comes in—“ Derek shoves his fingers in a little rough, enough that Stiles cuts off, dick jerking on his stomach. “Like that, _yeah_.”

“I didn’t want to,” Derek says, leaning back onto his heels. “It seemed wrong. That wasn’t how I liked you, I think. I mean, yeah, sometimes I’d look at you and just _want you_ , but I didn’t like the idea of touching you in the classroom. It felt gross.” With one slippery hand, he grabs the back Stiles’ thigh, just below the knee, and pushes it back, towards his chest. That lets his fingers sink in a little deeper, and Stiles presses back against them. 

“I like that you didn’t objectify me like some sort of schoolboy sex doll. I didn’t get too into the hot-for-teacher thing either, you know.” He smiles, fingers finding Derek’s cheek. 

Derek kisses the side of his knee. “It was never my fantasy. I like it simple. Me, you, a bed. I’m good.”

A third finger teases at his rim before pressing inside. It doesn’t _hurt_ , but it definitely feels like a stretch. When Derek gets them in deep, it’s a _lot_ , and Stiles has to breathe through it a little. His fingers are bigger than Danny’s, that’s for sure. Probably good because _all_ of him is bigger than Danny. 

For a moment, Stiles wants to tell him to get on with it, even though he can _tell_ that he’s not ready yet. But this isn’t like that. Maybe if it were a hookup, Stiles would be comfortable with too much, a little pain, maybe. Because he’s not _supposed_ to totally like it, not really. 

But with Derek, it’s like he _should_. Like a really good time is what Derek wants him to have and maybe it is.

Derek’s fingers stoke and curl inside of him, and it’s _good_. Stiles could probably do this all day, really, but his dick is throbbing and nothing _hurts_ , so he’s good. 

“I’m ready,” Stiles tells Derek with a soft smile. 

“Sure?” 

Stiles nods and Derek’s fingers slip out of him. He falls to the side, pulling Stiles with him and it’s a very strange and sudden change of perspective. 

“This way’ll be easier on you,” Derek says. “Just to start, at least. I don’t want to hurt you.” He helps Stiles move his hands to the right place on either side of his head and shift his legs up a little so his hips are in the right place. “Is this okay? I know some people don’t like being on top, if that’s—“

“It’s _fine_ ,” Stiles tells him. “I have _no_ idea what to _do_ , but something tells me my instincts will help me figure out how to ride you like the last horse in the stable.”

Derek shuts his eyes, shakes his head. “No horse metaphors during sex. Putting that rule down as official.” 

“Got it, big guy,” he says with a grin. “Now let’s pretend I have better coordination than I do.”

“I got this,” Derek says. His fingers brush against Stiles’ hole, and his other arm brushes against the inside of Stiles’ thigh as he lines himself up. Which means it’s Stiles’ time to shine. 

He goes very slowly, lowering down just enough to feel the tip of the condom against his entrance. One of Derek’s hands smooths up his thigh, encouraging. With a deep breath, Stiles bears down, mouth falling open at the width. Derek feels _huge_ , but when he sinks down a little more, the head slips all the way inside and it’s a little better. 

Derek’s big, but he’s not, like, _unreasonably_ big. Not enough to be scary or anything. But he _feels_ bigger. Thicker and hotter. The latex is thin enough to feel heat, that’s for sure. It burns, in a good way. Not _pain_ , but like a good sort of stretch.

It takes what feels like a long time before his ass meets Derek’s hips. 

He feels nice and full and a little weird to have something in him so deep. But it feels good enough that he tentatively rocks forward a little. Derek’s breath hitches, and it feels okay, so he tries again. Derek’s cock drags inside him, and when he bounces, it forces the breath from his lungs. 

“ _Fuck_ , that’s good,” he says, fists twisting in the sheets above Derek’s shoulders. 

Derek’s hands wrap against his hip bones, hot and a little slick, and Stiles takes that as his cue. He lifts up and sinks down slow. It’s an easy pace, but the slide of it’s too good. Without thinking, he picks up the pace a little. Derek groans and grips him tighter. Not tight enough to bruise. 

But Stiles can’t keep it up. He’s been slacking at cross-country since the beginning of the semester, and he hasn’t really _run_ in a good few weeks. His thigh muscles aren’t quite up to par at the moment, and they burn in protest. He could handle it if he were closer to coming, but it’s too much. 

He slows, stops, settles down in Derek’s lap. “I’m not in good enough shape for this, man.” 

“That’s fine,” Derek says. “Hop off.” He taps Stiles’ hip lightly, and Stiles rises off, rolls onto his back. 

The way Derek settles over him feels like a blanket or something. While he bends Stiles in half, he kisses his face messily. His mouth is hot, burns a little against his skin, but Stiles stops paying attention to it when Derek’s cock nudges at his hole. When Stiles nods, he pushes inside. 

By the time he’s fully seated against Stiles’ ass, Derek’s wrapped around him on all sides. Like he’s holding Stiles inside of him. His mouth brushes against Stiles’, breath wet and hot, and it’s _slow_. It’s so slow, but deep, and it’s like they’re melting together. His fingers slip across Derek’s back as they rock together with delicious intent. The weird thing is, it’s _tender_ , almost like—

“Holy shit, dude, are we _making love_?” Stiles asks, voice a bit rougher than he thought it would be. 

“Is that a problem?”

Stiles shakes his head, lips finding Derek’s mouth. “Never wanna stop,” he says, but he’s not sure if Derek can hear the words because he swallows them.

Derek shifts a little, changes the angle, and maybe Stiles weeps at little. Because even though _that_ feels like the heavens opening up for him, it’s too slow for him to come from it. But his brain is leaking out of his ears or something. It’s just Derek’s sweet mouth and the sweat-sticky movement of their bodies and the pulse-shaking electric thrill spreading under his skin.

“I love you,” Stiles says, even though it’s stupid and heat-of-the-moment. “Even though I shouldn’t, not yet. I _do_.” 

“I know, I—“ Derek swallows, panting against his cheek. “Yeah, me too. I don’t care if you take it back later. There’s never been anyone like you.”

“You’re amazing, you’re—“ Derek’s hand wraps around his cock. “Oh, _fuck_ , can you—? _Yeah_.” As soon as Derek stars jerking him, he knows he’s not going to last long. Not in a million years. Which sucks because he wants to be right here _forever_. It’s perfect, completely perfect, and he never wants to—

It’s possible his eyes roll back into his head a little when his orgasm hits him. And Derek drags it out, pulls him out of his body into some infinite space, and it almost _hurts_ , it feels that good.

When he comes back, a little slower, Derek’s sucking on his lower lip, thrusting into him like he’s holding himself back. Stiles strokes his hair, rubs his back with the other hand, and Derek’s forehead drops to his collarbone. He stays slow, but he’s hitting Stiles deeper. It’s fucking _intense_ , and he’s not sure if it’s better or worse because he already came. But Derek starts making these noises, little whimpers the fall out of him, break against Stiles’ skin. 

The way he comes is something like breaking, but it’s okay because Stiles is there to hold him together. He rubs Derek’s scalp, kisses his forehead as he falls through it.

Eventually, Derek collapses, pulls out. Falls over onto his back. With his last apparent reserve of energy, he slips off the condom, knots it, and drops it in the trash basket next to the bed. Stiles curls up against him, even though they’re both a shade too warm and their skin sticks. It’s not long before he falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s late for breakfast, but he’s not sure if it’s because they woke up later or because his shower became a partner activity. He’s not really sure he cares, to be honest. Because they have plans for later, and maybe plans for _much_ later, and he’s got this weird feeling in his chest. It’s not until he drives away that he realizes what it is: _happiness_.


End file.
